


take me to the light (until the end of the world)

by Dazerine



Category: Delirium Series - Lauren Oliver, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Delirium au, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Violence, an awful lot use of italics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:40:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazerine/pseuds/Dazerine
Summary: In a world where love was seen as a deadly disease, Taehyung and Seokjin fell in love.Or, a Delirium AU that no-one asked for.
Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin/Kim Taehyung | V
Kudos: 5
Collections: Wintermoon Fest 2020





	1. The Present

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wintermoon Fest to celebrate Taejin's birthday! Nothing says _happy birthday_ more than making my two favorite people suffer together in a work of fiction :) 
> 
> Thank you so much to my artist partner, Ben for inspiring this story! I really hope you like how this fic turns out!
> 
> Disclaimer: Obviously, this story is based on an existing piece of work. While the premise is still the same, I did make some creative changes that differ from the original. I also don't own any of the characters except the ones that I created.
> 
> Happy reading! Hope you'll enjoy it <3
> 
> Title from the _iconic_ , the one and only Even If I Die It's You by V and Jin.

_February 8th, 8:00 AM_

Taehyung woke up from his fitful sleep with a loud gasp. He abruptly sat up from his bed with his hand outstretched, as if reaching out for something. His heart was beating out of his heaving chest while squeezing his insides at the same time, a sob threatening to fall out of his lips along with his heavy breaths. Perspiration dripped down from his forehead and the sides of his face, making his curls stick up to them, and his clothes felt restricting and stuffy on his body.

The clock on top of his bunk bed showed that it was six in the morning. Taehyung could see the rising sun peeking behind the clouds from the window beside his bed, its shine and heat hitting the sides of his face. 

_It was just a dream_ , Taehyung thought to himself. _But it wasn’t, not really._

He inhaled a deep breath to try to slow down his heart rate and even out his breathing, but no matter how much he tried, the heaviness was still weighing down inside of him, breaking him in half under its pressure. He could feel a pressing heat and wetness behind his eyes, floodgates he couldn’t afford to open yet were on the verge of flooding, drowning him in its waves of destruction.

Before he could get further lost in the memories of his dream, a speck of blond hair popped out in his peripheral vision. 

“Are you okay, Taehyung?” Jimin asked while looking down from the top bunk bed, his eyes showed both worry and sympathy.

Taehyung looked up towards his only roommate. A part of him wanted to confide in his newfound comrade, to let go of the constant heaviness that he felt in his heart, sharing the weight with someone who understands what he was feeling. But after almost one month since meeting Jimin, meeting _Bangtan_ , and having his world turned upside down in a span of one night, he still couldn’t figure out his path. As trustworthy as Bangtan has shown themselves to be, how much _he_ trusted them with _his_ life, Taehyung still saw each of them as labyrinths; uncertain, unpredictable, _full of traps_.

“I’m okay,” Taehyung breathed out, “I’m okay,” he whispered again, unsure if he was trying to convince Jimin or himself.

Taehyung knew that Jimin was not convinced, but he sighed in relief when Jimin decided not to press further. “Okay then,” Jimin answered back dejectedly. He looked at the clock on the wall and went down the ladder on the side of the bed. “Breakfast is gonna be served at seven. We should get ready.” Jimin walked to the side of the small room where a small wooden wardrobe perched. Taehyung watched as he got his clothes from there and grabbed a towel from the plastic hook sticking on their door. “You wanna get to the bathrooms together?”

“No,” Taehyung shook his head and smiled half-heartedly at Jimin, “you can go ahead.”

“Okay,” Jimin reached out for the door handle, but before his hand could touch the metal, he pulled back to look at Taehyung sympathetically. “If you ever need anything, _anything_ at all, someone to talk to or just to _listen_ , please don’t hesitate to come to any of us, to come to _me_ ,” Jimin walked over and gave Taehyung’s shoulder a squeeze, “we’re in The Wilds now, you don’t have to worry about expressing how you feel anymore, we’re _free_.”

Taehyung watched as Jimin walked back to the door. He gave him a small smile before opening it and leaving him alone in the room.

Taehyung wanted to laugh. _We’re free_ , he recalled Jimin’s words, _but why do I still feel imprisoned?_

He knew the answer to that question. It’s been stuck in his throat since the day _it_ happened, screaming to get out. He feared that when he said it he would do nothing but crumble, pieces of him taken away by the waves.

So he kept silent. But _his_ name would always be held on the tip of his tongue.

 _Seokjin_.

* * *

The Wilds was different from what Taehyung expected when he first got there. The books had always described them as barren and withered, like a desert, littered with the after effects of _The Blitz_. A place full of plane wreckages, massive holes from the bombs, radiation, and rotting bodies. The government spoke of them as a place of despair and suffering. His family had told him it was basically an open grave, a place of darkness where happiness couldn’t be found, with no light at the end of the tunnel.

Being face to face with it now, they couldn’t be proven more wrong.

“The Wilds” was located where the city of Seoul used to thrive, before it became an abandoned site full of thick, unkempt trees and vines. If you try to see them through the gates surrounding the city, you wouldn’t be able to tell if there was any living being left. This was because the city was alive _underground_ , where the old subway station used to operate. New life was breathed through its walls from the blood, sweat, and tears of the _Invalids_ , the people punished and thrown away carelessly for using their most basic human instincts. The subway platforms on the east and west side were transformed into living places like bedrooms and communal bathrooms. The center of the station was turned into the huge cafeteria with a kitchen, where meals were served three times a day. Meanwhile, the upper floors were now offices used for meetings between leaders and other communal spaces such as classrooms or living rooms.

Jimin stuck to Taehyung all the way to the cafeteria, helping him maneuver his way around the hub. The cafeteria was packed with people, some of them still lining up on the side of the room to get their portion, while some were already sitting on the tables littered all over the space. The sight of people talking so freely, touching each other and laughing together still made Taehyung flinch, even to this day. He still half expected a baton to be swung right on their smiling faces, all of them to be dragged away and brought to God knows where by the regulators, kicking and screaming and crying. 

_We’re free_ , Taehyung reminded himself, _I’m free_.

He was brought out of his thoughts by Jimin offering him a tray. “Here you go, Taehyung,” he said, “might wanna get your head out of the clouds though, Minjung-halmeoni is serving hotteok today. You know how we all get for her hotteoks, we won’t be spared a single crumble,” he continued with a laugh.

Taehyung gave Jimin a small smile and took the tray out of his hands. Together, they walked over to the food counter. Taehyung let the _ajumma_ behind it put rice, japchae, pork belly, and radish kimchi on his tray. Once he got to the last counter, he met eyes with Minjung, one of the cooks in the hub.

“Good morning, Taehyung.” she greeted him kindly, the crow’s feet in the corner of her eyes deepening along with her smile. 

“Good morning, _halmeoni_ ,” Taehyung greeted her back with a short bow.

Minjung dug her spoon in the food trays placed behind the counter and put three hotteoks on Taehyung’s tray. “We’re supposed to give each person two, but you look like you need something sweet this morning, so I’m giving you extra,” she then put her finger on her lips and whispered, “don’t tell anyone I’m doing this, especially Jungkook. He’ll just whine and give me those puppy eyes. You know I can’t resist them.”

Taehyung felt his heart grow a little lighter. “Thank you so much, _halmeoni_.”

He walked away from the counter to join Jimin who was waiting for him at the end of the line. They walked together to the seating area, trying to find a vacant table to sit on.

Jimin nudged Taehyung’s arm with his elbow. “Don’t think I didn’t see that,” he teased while looking at Taehyung’s tray of hotteok.

Taehyung replied back with a laugh. It was moments like these that made him believe things would be okay for him here, that he could live as freely and happily as the people around him, as how Seokjin had painted the picture of The Wilds for him _before_.

“Jimin, Taehyung! Over here!”

Taehyung and Jimin turned their heads toward the loud call. Right there, on the table in the middle of the room, they could see Hoseok kneeling on his chair. He waved his hand wildly in the air, beckoning for them to come over. 

Jimin let out a little laugh, “Hobi-hyung!” He immediately pulled Taehyung over to the table where Hoseok was sitting, where the rest of _them_ also were.

Jimin sat right next to Hoseok and gestured for Taehyung to sit on his other side. 

“It’s good to see you again, Taehyung.”

Taehyung looked up from his food to see a dimpled smile. “Namjoon-ssi.”

Taehyung never imagined what the leaders of the Invalids would look like, but once he met them, they exceeded whatever expectation that he ever had.

From the outside, Bangtan looked just like six, well _five_ , ordinary young men. They goofed around and laughed with each other, they talked about the most trivial things, they all fought over Minjung-halmeoni’s hotteok like it was the last piece of food on earth. But beneath all of those things were the people who managed to build The Wilds into what it was now, they saved so many people and provided them with food, water, and refuge. They worked hard to give these people the things they _deserved_ , things that were taken away from them just for being what they were.

Most of all, Bangtan gave them a place _to love_.

What Taehyung knew about Kim Namjoon was that he was what you would call _the president_ of The Wilds. People said that almost everything that they had here; the resources, the system, the _vision_ ; came from one Kim Namjoon. People talked about his kind eyes and dimpled smile, they spoke to and about him with the utmost respect, like how you would to a leader, _a hero_. He was someone the Invalids looked up to, someone they would fight for, someone they genuinely _love_. Taehyung couldn’t blame them. After all, it was Namjoon who accepted him easily to be a part of them, he was one of the first people who took care of him when he first arrived. He remembered Namjoon sitting by his bed in the Medical Bay area, telling him about where he was while drugs and saline solution ran through Taehyung’s body. He assured him that he was okay and safe, nothing was gonna hurt him, and he was protected despite what he was, what he’d _done_. 

Taehyung looked at the person sitting beside Namjoon, a raven haired man with pale skin and a slightly shorter stature than himself. Taehyung couldn’t get much read about him, about Min Yoongi. But still, he could feel his presence in the background, quiet but powerful at the same time. People described him as Namjoon’s right hand man, the voice of reason, the one who led with subtlety. While Namjoon had the vision, Yoongi was the one who had the _mission_ to make things in The Wilds work as is. From the moment he arrived in The Wilds, Yoongi was the only one who never spoke even a syllable to Taehyung. He only stood by his medical bed in silence with his arms crossed, his eyes calculating like he was solving a complicated puzzle or finding a way through a maze. Even now, at the dining table, he still looked at him the same way. But Taehyung could feel that his gaze wasn’t cold. It was full of curiosity and uncertainty, but never malicious. Taehyung didn’t know what to make of that yet.

A loud laughter from his left side grounded him back to the present. It was coming from none other than Jung Hoseok. On the outside, he reminded Taehyung a lot about his old friend back _then_. Hoseok was cheerful and lively. He was one of the members of Bangtan that Taehyung felt safe with. Perhaps because he was familiar, or maybe it was just Hoseok’s effect in general to leave trails of joy in each path that he took. He treated Taehyung like he had been there all along, like he wasn’t an outsider. Taehyung remembered when Hoseok welcomed him to their dining table in the cafeteria and joked around with him like he was part of them, like they were _friends_. By the day, he was one of the teachers at the education center provided within the hub. Taehyung once saw him leading a group of toddlers around the hub, the children following him obediently like baby ducklings. He brought color to a once grey room, like a rainbow coming after heavy rain. But by the night, he was The Wild’s most expert strategizer. Along with Namjoon and Yoongi, he planned blueprints and organized initiatives for the resistance as little as protests across the country and as big as government spying, sneaking in Invalids beyond the border. He drafted maps after maps towards the final goal; _freedom for all_.

“Taehyung-ah, you gonna eat that?”

Taehyung glanced towards Jimin, who was picking up kimchi from his tray with chopsticks. Jimin was unlike anyone Taehyung had ever met before. Besides Hoseok, Jimin was the one who had been the most welcoming. He has stayed by his side since he came here. At first Taehyung thought it was because Jimin felt responsible for him, after all he was the Head of Medical Bay. He was also the doctor who had nursed him back to health. Taehyung thought Jimin would leave after he was discharged, but Jimin stayed with him through and through. He showed him around the hub, pointing out spaces that he could visit, taking him to places that could be of use to him. He fought over Taehyung sleeping in the same room as him. He calmed Taehyung down when nightmare after nightmare stormed his slumber, grounding him back to reality, but never asked any questions about it. Jimin just held his hand through it. He was patient and kind, calm in some ways but fierce in others. 

He reminded him a little of Seokjin.

“Yah!” Hoseok exclaimed suddenly. “How’d you get three hotteoks? We’re supposed to have two only!”

“Minjung-halmeoni gave it to him. _Willingly_ , might I add!” Jimin protested loudly.

Hoseok let out an incredulous noise. “No fair. Last time I didn’t even get any because _someone_ decided to steal mine off my plate.”

“Sorry, not sorry. It was chocolate hotteok day,” Jimin smirked proudly. 

Namjoon chuckled. “Ignore them, Taehyung-ah. Enjoy them while they’re there. Days like these come as a treat, we don’t get it too often.”

“Looks like Minjung-halmeoni has a new favorite,” Yoongi spoke up unexpectedly, his head tilted to the side, as if he was making an observation.

The sound of a dining chair scraping loudly against the floor startled the group. On Yoongi’s other side was the last member of Bangtan, their youngest, _the one who hated Taehyung most_.

“I’ve lost my appetite.” Jungkook took his uneaten tray of food from the table and rushed between the sea of people. They saw as Jungkook threw his food away and harshly put his tray back on the counter before hurriedly leaving the cafeteria.

Taehyung sighed defeatedly as the other members of Bangtan watched him go exasperatedly. Jimin put his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Taehyung,” he said, “he’ll come around soon enough.”

“You know that it’s not you he’s really angry at,” Hoseok chimed in, “he’s just...he’s still processing. It’s especially difficult for him to be aware of his true feelings right now. We’ll work it out.”

“No,” Taehyung shook his head, “he has every right to be angry at me. I don’t blame him at all. It is my fault that...that Seokjin-hyung is…”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon said reassuringly, “you didn’t do anything wrong, Taehyung. It’s not anyone’s fault except for _theirs_ . You were only trying to survive, you were escaping from the prison that they’ve built for themselves. There’s nothing wrong with desiring to be free, to _love_. It’s human nature.” He leaned forward in his seat, trying to catch Taehyung’s eyes from beneath his curly bangs. “Seokjin-hyung wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, either.”

“I know he wouldn’t,” Taehyung demurred, “that’s why I am.”

Taehyung ignored the stares he was getting and continued to eat his food, although it tasted bland on his tongue now.

Jeon Jungkook was the last member to join Bangtan. They took him in when his parents were taken away, most likely to be executed. He was thrown into The Wilds to be abandoned and to rot, but he was found in time by none other than Seokjin himself. Him, along with the rest of Bangtan, cared for him and took him under their wings. They mentored him and taught him all that he knew now, but they also treated him like a brother. They coddled and teased him at the same time, they fought and challenged him, they made him into who he was now. They _loved_ him. Now, just at the age of nineteen, he was the youngest fighter The Wilds ever had. He had his way with almost every kind of self defense, either hand-to-hand combats or with weapons, such as knives and guns. He trained many Invalids both his age and older to fight also. He challenged them physically, mentally, and emotionally, forming them to be the most cunning and ruthless fighters. In a world like this, you had to be, to avoid being six feet underground. And while Taehyung hadn’t seen the reason for it, he knew that Jungkook was loved by all the people in The Wilds. He heard it earlier in Minjung-halmeoni’s words, he saw it through Bangtan’s concerned gaze when he walked away from them. He knew about it from Seokjin _himself_.

All Taehyung wished for in his twenty one years of living was to be happy. It was all that people had promised to him in his whole life; his family promised him that he’d be happy once he had the procedure, the cure, once he was paired with the girl of _their_ choice, and he believed them. He also believed Seokjin when he said that life in The Wilds was where true happiness could be found, where they could be free to do what they wanted, to love who they loved, to live with no fear. 

Perhaps Taehyung should stop believing.

“Hoseok-ssi,” Taehyung said, “would you like to finish my hotteok?”


	2. Interlude: The Deliria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung remembered his mother and how the world came to be.

Taehyung remembered his mother vividly; his moments with her were like rolls of film constantly being played in the depths of his memory.

He remembered the color of her eyes; a deep warm brown with a sparkle that he always thought were stars. He thought of wishing on them because they were so bright. He told his mother so, causing her to let out a small laugh, soft and sweet like wind chimes ringing during a light windy day.

He remembered her hands, gentle and delicate; sewing him a small plush with a heart-shaped head and body covered in yellow polkadots, engulfing him in hugs as snug as a wooly blanket, tending his wounds and wiping his tears when he fell down a gravel path, caressing his hair while he laid down to sleep, his eyelids heavy and body relaxing as he drifted off to dreamland.

He remembered the sound of her voice; deep and velvety, singing him mellifluous songs unsung for so long, old ones that were deemed dangerous and forbidden; telling him a story about a lonely boy who lives on the moon, seeking answers to questions unasked;

Telling him she loved him before she disappeared into the night, never to return again.

 _I love you Taehyung,_ she whispered desperately. _Remember, they cannot take_ it.

 _Love_ , Taehyung thought bitterly. That was a word no-one ever used anymore. 

He thought back to the things he learned at school. Seventy five years ago, the country was in complete disarray. Corruption rates went through the roof, the economy was at an all time low, people were getting laid off from their jobs. Many of them had to file for bankruptcy or live in poverty, waiting for available housings that would never come and hanging their lives off of the pity of others. People were losing their morals fast, some resorting to criminal acts and murder to fulfill their needs. Cases of robbery, rape, and raiding became prevalent across the country. Not only that, half the country suffered from drug addiction and alcoholism, overdosing became part of the people’s daily routine. People were dying, the government was collapsing, the country was at the verge of extinction.

Then came Kang Jeonghoon. Taehyung remembered reading about him in his school books and listening to his teachers speaking of his name in praise. His statue also stood tall in the middle of his hometown of Daegu; the alloy of copper and tin chiseled his narrow and blank eyes, his imposing concave nose, and his thin lips that were curved in a straight line. His vacant eyes also stared back at him whenever he went to the market, the same gaze printed on the bills. Taehyung couldn’t miss him even if he wanted to.

People described Kang Jeonghoon’s rise to power as the president of the Republic of Korea as light at the end of a tunnel, an oasis in the middle of the desert, a beacon of hope in the midst of despair. He offered and insisted on the implementation of a vision; that love was a _disease_. 

_Love of money, material things, food, people,_ ourselves _,_ he echoed in his campaigns all over the country, _love, it blinds our common sense and drives us to act recklessly,_ dangerously _. It led us to steal, to corrupt, to kill both each other and ourselves._ This _is the cause of our suffering, the bane of our very existence. These are the things that love does._

 _Consider this_ , he’d continue, _you will do anything for your children, correct? You want to create a perfect world for them, where they’ll be safe, they’ll be healthy, they’ll be_ happy _. But as long as people who love still exist, that perfect world will never be. People who love money will corrupt and steal, unrequited lovers will kill, people who_ think _they need love and don’t receive them will suffer. It’s a hellish circle of suffering, love is. It’s a disease, it’s a curse. And the more people realize that, the better._

 _And I can make it better for you. I can give you the perfect world without suffering, without love. Only_ happiness _._

As a result, people all over the country supported him. His message resonated in their aching hearts that were looking for a solution, a remedy, a cure.

And that was exactly what Kang Jeonghoon gave them. 

He officially declared love as a disease to be cured. He even changed the terminology of it, making it into something clinical, disarming, _frightening_. People in the present whispered about it as the _deliria_ , short for _amor deliria nervosa_ , the disease of suffering, the deadliest of all. A disease of love, nervous, _delirium_. 

He invented The Cure not a year later; a simple procedure involving the removal of the part of your brain that was damned to create such agony. He even offered to be the first person to receive the procedure, sacrificing himself for the good of the country. Not a week passed by before he was once more standing in front of his people, speaking to them in front of the Blue House. People who saw him there said that he looked the same as before The Cure. He was still the same person, his face, his voice, he was still Kang Jeonghoon. 

But there was something different. On the back of his neck, just behind his left ear, a small, three-pronged red scar decorated his tan skin. It didn’t look like he was in pain. Instead, there was a certain lightness to his steps, like he was walking on heaps of clouds. His chest was puffed out in confidence, he stood with his back and shoulders straight, like a heavy weight was just lifted up from him.

Most of all, he looked _happy_.

 _I am cured,_ he said to his people back then _, I am safe, I am healthy, and I am happy._

Kang Jeonghoon was officially declared the nation’s hero, a savior, some even thought of him as a _God_. People raced to follow his path like a flock of seagulls fighting over the last piece of fish. They brought their families and children to hospitals or government buildings to receive The Cure, they blew their riches on them, exchanged everything they had for the promise of life without pain, only eternal happiness.

Trials and errors for the past several years after The Cure was introduced perfected the methods for receiving the procedure. It was a mandatory procedure to have by all the people of the Republic of Korea by the time they reached eighteen years of age. There were no exceptions, anyone who refused so would be coerced into receiving one, or else. 

But before receiving the procedure, everyone must endure The Evaluations. It was a set of processes that assessed the people in two ways; medical checkup to make sure your body was fit enough to receive the cure, and personal interviews to determine your future studies, your possible career choice, _your future matched pairing_. It was necessary for the government to be the one to choose them for you; to ensure accuracy, leaving room for no errors, no possible chance for the disease to sneak up its deadly claws on you.

In a glance, it might be a simple process, it could be over in a blink of an eye. But Taehyung knew better.

Taehyung was reminded of one of the seniors in his school, Park Mijoo. She was the model student, the most clever and talented. Everyone had high hopes for her including Taehyung himself, even when he didn't personally know her. She was expected to continue her studies to medical school, become a doctor, and get paired with the son of a government official.

All of that never happened. Taehyung heard from his classmates that the day after her Evaluations, her whole family was removed forcefully from their home. They said her results were inconclusive, it showed strangeness, suspicion, _sympathy_ towards the deliria. No-one knew what happened next to them. Some said that they lived in hiding, right on the outskirts of the city now.

Taehyung couldn’t wait for his turn to receive his Cure.

He saw what the disease had done, not only to Park Mijoo, but to his mother also. The risks of the procedure were better than going through everything that his mother did. She was always a soft and gentle person, but the deliria made her delicate, fragile, _breakable_ . He had memories of her sitting by the window of their house, watching the rain hit the ground with empty eyes and tear tracks down her cheeks. Whenever Taehyung approached her perching figure, she would immediately wipe her eyes and put on her biggest smile. He remembered seeing her crying in her room at night when she thought he was asleep. She held the picture of his father in her hands like a lifeline, an anchor holding her from floating away. The cureds wouldn’t experience this much pain and suffering from losing a spouse, especially to something as natural as death, but his mother _wasn’t_ cured, she never was. 

Taehyung heard the whispers from people around him; his neighbors, his teachers, his own classmates, that his mother went through the procedure _three times_ , even once without anesthesia. Yet not once did The Cure ever work for her, no matter how many times she was given the procedure.

And she paid the ultimate price for it.

One day she was with him, the other she wasn’t. The next thing he knew, he was moving to his aunt and uncle’s house. His mother never returned from the dark, and as far as Taehyung knew, that was where she would be now. In the night, in the dark, six feet underground. 

He was just six years old when his aunt told him what suicide meant. 

The deliria took everything from his mother.

Taehyung was determined to not end up in the same fate.


	3. Vacant Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taehyung went to his Evaluations thinking everything would go perfectly, after all, he practiced this for _years_. However, he was in for a twist.

_8 months ago, May 30th, 7:30 AM_

Taehyung stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, examining every little detail of his appearance. He ran his hands through his hair, smoothing out the bangs that had fallen to his forehead. He closed up the buttons on his sleeves, straightening them up to make himself look more presentable. He then reached out to the wooden wardrobe beside the mirror, taking out one of the ties that were hanging by its door. 

_Blue, it’s the safest color to choose._

Taehyung raised the collar of his shirt and circled the tie around his neck. He looped the cloth between each other, making knots here and there in an attempt to _at least_ make the tie resemble a proper Windsor knot. He sighed exasperatedly when he realized that all he did was make the tie even more crumpled and tangled.

“Let me help you with that.”

Taehyung turned towards the door. There, standing against the doorframe to his bedroom, Lee Gyeoul, his aunt. She walked towards him and turned him around to face her. “Even after eighteen years of teaching you, you never get it right.”

As Gyeoul fixed his tie for him, Taehyung couldn’t help but look at her face. She held so much resemblance to his mother; he could see her rounded deep brown eyes, her small snubbed nose, and her heart shaped face in his aunt. But they couldn’t be more different than the sky and sea. Taehyung’s mother always had a wide, box shaped smile, the one that he also saw while looking at himself in the mirror. Meanwhile, Gyeoul’s lips were always formed in a thin line, her smile a mere quirk of the corner of her mouth. Her smile also never reached her eyes. Instead what looked back at him were her flimsy, vacant gaze; a gaze of someone who had been cured of the deliria, a gaze of someone who was _safe_. Her hands were rougher from years of house work and her black hair was always put up in a bun on top of her head. 

Taehyung sometimes wondered if this was what could’ve been for his mother, if she were to be cured.

“All done,” Gyeoul said finally while fixing his collar and straightening his tie. “Easy, does it?

Taehyung nodded his head dutifully. “Thank you, _imo_.”

Gyeoul took a step back and roamed her eyes on Taehyung, inspecting his look calculatively. “I’m sure The Evaluators will deem your look acceptable enough,” she observed, “I hope you’re ready for today, Taehyung.”

“Yes, Gyeoul-imo,” Taehyung replied. He remembered the days he studied his books and practiced his answers in the mirror, determined to give it his all, to _not_ mess this up. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

_What’s your favorite color? Blue, like the sky and sea._

_What books do you read? The Handbook of Safety, Health, and Happiness by our Kang Jeonghoon is my favorite. I read it everyday after I wake up in the morning and before I sleep at night._

_Where do you see yourself five years from now? Working in my uncle’s business, building my own house in the center of Daegu, being married to my matched pair, having a son and a daughter._

_What do you know about the deliria? It’s the deadliest disease that has ever existed. It is a silent killer, it’s a sickness that makes you believe that you are well when you’re on the verge of death._

_How do you feel about the Invalids? They are nothing but a danger to society, a risk for our nation. They should be eradicated._

“I hope you remember what is at stake here,” Gyeoul warned. “I hope you remember what would happen to you, to _us_ , if you as much as move or _breathe_ wrong.”

“I’m aware,” Taehyung assured her. His mind played back the whispers he heard about his mother, about _him_ , the son of the _incurable, the damned woman_ , destined to repeat the same cycle. He recalled the fate of Park Mijoo and her family, then he remembered his aunt, uncle, and his little cousin. His mind was already set. “I won’t let all of you down.” _I will prove them wrong._

Gyeoul took a step forward and grasped both of his shoulders, for a second Taehyung thought he saw a hint of fear in her eyes. They disappeared before he could comprehend them.

“You _will_ pass The Evaluations,” it wasn’t an encouragement or a suggestion, it was an _order_ , a _command_. “No exceptions.”

“No exceptions,” Taehyung parroted. “I _promise_ , Gyeoul-imo. I’d rather die than fail.”

Gyeoul’s lips quirk into a small smile. Her eyes stayed as vacant as ever. “Good,” she said approvingly. She released her grip on him and walked towards his door. “Breakfast is ready. If you’re done here it will do you good to come downstairs quickly, the food will go cold and you don’t want to be late.” And by that, she disappeared down the hall.

Taehyung looked at himself in the mirror one last time. His mind played back the answers that he practiced a thousand times already, determined to get everything perfect as it should be.

He walked over to his bed to pick up his bag and jacket when something caught his eye. There, laying innocently at the corner of his room near the bed, was the plush his mother made for him. He vaguely remembered his mother calling the character with the heart shaped head Tata, he remembered her telling him stories about the little thing traveling the world, curious about the everything around him. He had a memory of his mother saying that it reminded her of Taehyung, that was why she named it so close to his own name.

_What’s your favorite color? Blue, like the sky and sea._

_What books do you read? The Handbook of Safety, Health, and Happiness by our Kang Jeonghoon is my favorite. I read it everyday after I wake up in the morning and before I sleep at night._

_Where do you see yourself five years from now? Working in my uncle’s business, building my own house in the center of Daegu, being married to my matched pair, having a son and a daughter._

_What do you know about the deliria? It’s the deadliest disease that has ever existed. It is a silent killer, it’s a sickness that makes you believe that you are well when you’re on the verge of death._

_How do you feel about the Invalids? They are nothing but a danger to society, a risk for our nation. They should be eradicated._

* * *

Breakfast was as uneventful as usual. The table was silent besides from the occasional sound of metal chopsticks nudging the ceramic plate. Taehyung sat on the round dining table, his eyes focused on the rice and _galbi_ in front of him, but his mind was wandering elsewhere. He then turned his attention to the people sitting surrounding him, his supposed family. 

After his mother committed suicide, he was taken in by Gyeoul and Chunghee, her husband. His mind recalled himself crying in Gyeoul’s thin arms, asking for his mother as she carried him inside their two storied house. 

_She’s dead now, Taehyungie,_ she said nonchalantly, as if talking about the weather or describing the neighbor’s dog, not about her dead older sister. _She committed suicide, which means that she made herself die._

 _It’s the deliria_ , his uncle Chunghee added. _We couldn’t save her even if we wanted to, she was too far gone._

_You don’t have to worry about her anymore._

A fleeting thought sometimes went through his head. He wished they would have hugged him and ran their hands through his hair, like his mother used to do to him when he cried. But he remembered watching them walk away from his room not even a few minutes after, leaving him in his own confusion and pain all alone. The next day, they served him breakfast and told him to go to school like nothing happened, like he didn’t just have his whole world crashing down on him in a day.

He looked at his younger cousin across from him on the dining table, struggling to scoop the steamed egg into his mouth using his chopsticks. He wondered if that’s how Gyeoul and Chunghee also treated little Joonwoo, their own son. He was only six years younger than Taehyung, but he never saw him cry once in the whole time he lived here. Joonwoo didn’t have much to say to him either, only occasionally calling him down to tell him dinner was served or asking him to help with his math homework. Taehyung sometimes watched over Joonwoo whenever Chunghee had to go to work and Gyeoul had to leave to the market. Mostly, he just watched his little cousins play cards calmly with the kid from next door. They never made a mess or noise, only speaking short words to each other after each round.

 _Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be,_ Taehyung thought to himself. _This is what safety, health, and happiness look like._

“How are you feeling today, Taehyung?”

Taehyung turned his attention towards Chunghee. “I’m excited, Chunghee-samchon. I’ve prepared so much for this day, I’m sure it will be an easy pass.”

Chunghee nodded his head appreciatively. “You’re a smart boy, Taehyung-ah. I’m certain it won’t even take a minute for you.”

“You’re supposed to be there by nine, correct?” Gyeol chimed in.

“Yes, imo. I’m just waiting for Minjae to come pick me up, we promised to walk to the city hall together.”

Gyeol clicked her tongue. “I don’t get why you’re still friends with that boy, Taehyung-ah. His father might work for the government but the boy is hardly the resemblance of him. He’s always so loud and...strange, whenever he comes over here.”

Taehyung chuckled awkwardly. “He is a little...unique, if you can say that. But he’s a good friend, Gyeoul-imo. You see how he sometimes brought his mother’s _yakbap_ to us,” he said as he took a bite of his _galbi_. “He’ll calm down once he’s given The Cure I’m sure.”

“At this rate, I’m concerned he’s never going to receive the procedure,” Chunghee spoke up. “Heard from my friends at work that he’s been going to those forbidden gatherings with the _uncureds_ also. Don’t know why his father never set him straight, rich people privilege I guess.”

“You be careful with him, Taehyung-ah,” Gyeoul warned.

“It’s okay, _imo_. I can take care of myself, I promise.”

Just as he scooped up his last bite, the doorbell rang loudly across the house.

“That must be him,” Taehyung stood up from his seat and took his bag from the floor beside him.

“Let me get you to the door, Taehyung-ah,” Gyeoul put down her chopsticks and stood up also. She followed Taehyung to the living room and opened up the front door.

Minjae stood on the opposite side with a big smile on his face, his hair unkempt and his shirt crumpled, like he either just went through a hurricane on the way or got ready with no time to spare. Taehyung held back his laugh behind his palm.

“Good morning, Gyeoul-ssi!” He greeted cheerfully with a wave.

“Minjae-ah,” Gyeoul greeted him back with a forceful smile. “Lovely to see you.”

“Lovely to see you too, Gyeoul-ssi!” Minjae bubbled. “You’re looking exceptionally beautiful today.”

Taehyung wanted to scoff. He could tell from his aunt’s expression that she wanted to as well.

He decided to save both of them from their misery. “Gyeoul-imo, I think it’s time for us to go. We don’t want to be late for the registration. You know how long the queue can be.”

Taehyung could see Gyeoul’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Of course, Taehyung-ah. Good luck for the evaluations, you two. I’m sure you’ll do exceptionally,” Gyeoul put her hand on Taehyung's shoulder before Minjae could drag him away. “Remember what I said before.”

Taehyung nodded resolutely. “Of course, _imo_.”

“Off you two go then. Be careful.”

“Goodbye Gyeoul-ssi! Good talk we have right there!”

Taehyung and Minjae walked together further away from his house. When they were far enough from Gyeoul’s line of sight, Minjae turned towards Taehyung and groaned. “Your _imo_ hates me.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Tae, don’t even try to deny it. I can feel the daggers from her gaze from like, a mile away. I bet she’s still stabbing her daggers on me right now.”

“I swear, she doesn’t!” Taehyung laughed. “She’s just...she worries a lot. You understand why…”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Dead mom, dead sister, I get it,” if it were any other person, Taehyung probably would’ve felt offended. But this was Minjae, he knew he didn’t mean any harm. “How much did you prepare for The Evaluations? Wait, don’t answer that. Kang’s handbook is like a lifeline for you, you’ve probably had the answers to the interviews outside your head.”

Taehyung did, but he wasn’t about to tell Minjae that. “How about you?” He asked back. “What did you prepare?”

“You’re asking like you don’t know me already,” Minjae chuckled. “I think this whole thing’s bullshit anyway.”

“Minjae!” Taehyung looked around cautiously, making sure no-one heard what Minjae just said. “You can’t just say that in public!”

Minjae giggled at Taehyung’s panicked face. “Relax, Tae. No-one is here to listen in. You’re such a worrywart.” Minjae shrugged his shoulders uncaringly. “Besides, it’s true.”

Looking at Taehyung and Minjae from a distance probably would make you conclude that they were nowhere near friends. They were as different as night and day, one would say they were extreme opposites on the same spectrum. Minjae with his untucked shirt and messy hair, Taehyung with his tightly buttoned and bangs combed. Minjae with his loud, exuberant laugh and Taehyung with his quiet, reserved chuckle. Minjae as the son of Kim Beomseok, one of the most esteemed and praised people in the whole republic, the mayor of Daegu; and Taehyung as the son of Kim Yeoreum, the _damned, incurable_ woman. But somehow, together, they were a perfect match.

Taehyung first met Minjae during their first year in junior high school. They didn’t have the same class together, so their encounter was completely by chance. Young Taehyung found himself in the mercy of nine graders who backed him into a corner, taunting him about his dead parents and his tainted family. They took his lunch and threw his book bag into a trash can, telling him he didn’t deserve to go to school on the chance that he would be infecting everyone with _his_ disease. Taehyung could only cry pitifully as their hands rained down on him. He knew everyone was watching, yet no-one dared to intervene, afraid of the possibility that he would smirch the disease on them.

Except for one person.

Minjae stood in front of Taehyung’s weak body and told all of them to go to hell with his young voice. He threatened to tell his father and have all of their families sent to the outskirts, or worse, beyond the fence. The bullies quickly cowered away like rats, running into the sewers with their tails between their legs. Minjae then reached out his hand to Taehyung and pulled him up to sit. He got him back his book bag and convinced him to sit with him during lunch. They shared a box of kimbap that day, and the day after, and all the days that came after.

The rest was history.

The government hall stood tall in the middle of Daegu right next to the statue of Kang Jeonghoon. One could say that the building was just one giant glass with the amount of windows surrounding its walls, a perfect contrast with Kang Jeonghoon’s copper structure. Taehyung never went inside the building before but from looking at the outside, he assumed there must be at least ten stories inside. 

He remembered back to the Evaluations invite he received in his mail. _Medical check up on the second floor, interviews on the sixth._

Taehyung took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. _I can do this, this is all that I’ve prepared for._

“There’s a party in Deulan-ro at five later today,” Minjae cut him out of his thoughts. “You wanna come?”

Taehyung tilted his head sceptically. “Who’s gonna be there?”

“Not many people. Maybe ten to twenty? We’re just gonna hang out, drink some, maybe listen to some music.”

“Unregistered music, right?”

“It’s totally harmless, Tae!” Minjae protested. “It’s just music, what harm can it be?”

“There’s a reason why those types of music are unregistered, Minjae. And you’re gonna be hanging around with other uncureds right? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I’m not gonna get the deliria, Taehyung, geez. It’s just music, it’s just hanging out with other people and having fun. Loosen up a little, will you?”

Taehyung sighed exasperatedly. Aside from being Minjae’s best friend, Taehyung sometimes felt like he was also his babysitter. Minjae’s hobby of gathering together with other uncured people would get him into trouble sooner or later, and Taehyung wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. He knew he was going to come along with Minjae whether he liked it or not, but Taehyung pretended to act like he was contemplating it. 

“I’ll think about it,” he finally replied.

Once they got to the entrance of the government hall, Taehyung and Minjae turned towards each other.

“You ready?” Minjae asked.

Taehyung nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“Good luck, Tae,” Minjae whispered wistfully, “you’re gonna ace it. I mean that.”

“Thanks. I’m hoping you will too, Minjae. I know that deep down you have it in you. You’re gonna do great. Stop messing around so much, okay?”

“You know I can’t promise you that,” Minjae laughed. “See you on the flipside.”

* * *

  
The first part of The Evaluations went fairly easy. Taehyung admitted that he winched a little when the syringe needle pierced his skin to get his blood sample. He was also a little disgruntled about having to give a sample of his urine to the nurse. But overall, it went perfectly well. 

Taehyung heaved a deep breath as he pressed the up button to call the elevator. It was time for him to face the next part of The Evaluations; the interviews. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest as the elevator door finally opened. He stepped inside the small space and swallowed his anxiety as the door closed in front of him. 

Taehyung stepped out of the engine as the door opened on the sixth floor. He looked around the expense of the room; he was surrounded by bright white everywhere. White painted walls, white marbled floor, and a waiting room with two white sofas separated by a small glass table. On his right, a reception desk made of glass and white wood stood. The room was empty besides a receptionist with bright white clothes behind the desk, sitting while flipping through papers upon papers.

The room looked too clean, too _clinical_ , almost resembling a hospital. Even the medical checkup floor wasn’t this pristine. The spotlessness of the room felt like a false sense of security, giving you the impression of safety, a mask for something malicious waiting for him behind it.

Taehyung shook himself from his thoughts and walked up towards the reception desk. “Good morning.”

The woman behind the desk looked up from the papers. He was met with the same flimsy, vacant look that he also saw in his aunt. She didn’t seem too old, Taehyung estimated she was probably in her 30s or 40s. She had hollow cheeks and a sharp jawline, her hair was bunched up on top of her head in a bun. A three-pronged scar was prominent under her left ear.

“Good morning,” the woman roboted back to him. She turned her eyes back to the papers. “Kim Taehyung, participant number 130616, here for The Evaluations?”

“Yes,” Taehyung stepped back a little, surprised at her bluntness and straight-to-the-point attitude, but he tried not to let it show, keeping his expressions as neutral as possible. _The faster the better, I guess._

The receptionist stood up from her seat and gave him a clipboard with a pen. “Sign here, please.”

Taehyung quickly wrote down his signature and gave the clipboard and pen back to the woman. She then picked the paper up from the clipboard and compiled them with a few other papers that Taehyung couldn’t see the contents of before putting them all inside a brown folder. 

_Kim Taehyung - 130616,_ she wrote down on the folder. 

“Follow me right this way please.”

Taehyung followed her to walk upon the long, narrow corridor just right behind the desk. The walkway was so small, only as wide as one average person. This forced Taehyung to walk behind the woman. He looked around the corridor and saw several doors lined up along the way, a number sign made of metal was attached to each of them. 

_1...2...3...4..._ Taehyung counted the number of doors in his head in an attempt to distract his uneasiness, willing the vague feeling of the walls closing down around him to go away. 

The receptionist finally stopped at the very end of the corridor in front of a door labeled the number _fifteen_. She opened the door immediately, with ease, as if Taehyung’s future didn’t depend on what was behind it.

_This is it._

The room inside was just as what Taehyung was expecting. The same white walls and marbled floor greeted his sight. The room had no windows, instead two lightbulbs on the ceiling gave the room the light it needed. A round clock hung innocently in the back, its hand ticking the seconds away unassumingly. The room was also fairly empty, except for the long desk placed in the middle and a single wooden chair facing it. Behind the desk sat three people, oblivious to Taehyung’s internal struggles.

These people were his _evaluators_ , they were the one who had the hand on deciding his future. Whether he would be able to live the life he dreamed of for so long; receiving The Cure, meeting his matched pair, getting married, having children, and continuing his uncle’s business, or suffering the fate of exile like Park Mijoo or death like his own mother.

He stepped inside the cold, unblemished room hesitantly. He watched as the receptionist gave his folder to the person in the middle; a middle aged woman with shoulder-length hair and a pair of glasses sitting on her thin nose. Two men perched on the seat by her sides; one with greying hair and faint wrinkles, the other a little younger, possibly in his mid 30s.

“Thank you, Heejin,” the woman said as she reached out for the folder in the receptionist’s hold. 

The receptionist, or perhaps Heejin, as the woman said before, nodded her head briefly. She then stride towards the door and left, closing the wood behind her.

Now, it was only Taehyung and his fate.

“Taehyung-ssi,” the woman spoke up again. “Please, have a seat.”

Taehyung bowed his head slightly before taking a seat. 

He was met with the same three flimsy, vacant eyes, all staring down at him.

“Good morning, Taehyung-ssi,” the woman greeted him with a smile so huge it looked almost fake, her high-pitched voice was sugary sweet. “I hope you’re doing well today.”

“I am, thank you. I’m hoping you all are as well,” Taehyung replied back with a rigid smile. He put his hands on top of his thighs to stop them from shaking.

“We are, thank you for asking. My name is Moon Dalsom, I’m a doctor at the Kang Jeonghoon hospital. I am in charge of assessing the people’s physical and mental readiness to proceed with The Cure. I am also one of the surgeons who is responsible for the procedure. Today I am accompanied by my colleagues; Jung Seonghoon, the director of research and development department in the Ministry of Safety, Health, and Happiness,” the woman gestured towards the older man, “and Yang Hyunwoo, the chairman of Liberty from Deliria for the Republic of Korea Organization,” she tilted her head towards the younger man.

Taehyung tried to hide his surprise. The thought that he would one day be sitting down with a few of the republic’s heroes had never crossed his mind, yet here he was now. “It is such an honor to meet all of you. Thank you for all your services for this country.”

“The honor is mine,” Seonghoon spoke up. “It is all of our obligation and our responsibility to serve this country, to protect our people from this deadly disease.” Though his words spoke of humility, Taehyung could sense a hint of smugness in his voice.

“I hope you are aware of how _important_ this part of The Evaluations is,” Hyunwoo pressed. “This interview will decide whether you’ll be fit to receive The Cure once you turn eighteen. Not only that, we’ll also be assessing things about yourself that can help us determine the safe, healthy, and happy path for your future; your education, your occupation, your _matched pair_ ,” he gazed into Taehyung’s eyes sharply, “we want you to answer our questions honestly, as close to your current condition as possible, so that we can make the right choice for you. But I do hope you understand the repercussions when your answers aren’t...up to our standards.”

Taehyung gulped. “I understand perfectly, Hyunwoo-ssi.”

“Good then. Shall we start?”

“Oh, right!” Dalsom took out the papers from inside the folder and prepared a pen right after. “So, Taehyung-ssi, can you please tell us about yourself?”

 _Okay, just like you practiced._ “My name is Kim Taehyung. I’m seventeen years old but I will be turning eighteen in December. I’m currently completing my senior year in Daegu high school and I’ve been an active member of several extra curriculars such as the science and math club, the school’s track team, and the orchestra chamber team. I’m also one of the members of the student councils, I mostly work in advocacy towards actualizing a deliria-free Korea. I arranged several campaigns, both online and offline, to raise awareness about the dangers of deliria and made petitions for the government to make The Cure available for all.”

Dalsom’s smile lost a little bit of its forceness. “That’s a lot of activities for a young man such as yourself, especially regarding advocacy. Tell me then, what other activities outside of school do you like doing? Do you read books?”

“Outside of school, I mostly help out my _imo_ do some household chores at home and take care of my younger cousin when my _sanchom_ and _imo_ are busy. I also like to read books. _The Handbook of Safety, Health, and Happiness_ by our Kang Jeonghoon is my favorite. I read it everyday after I wake up in the morning and before I sleep at night.”

“What else do you like, Taehyung-ssi? What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, like the sky and sea. I found them to be simple, but calming and serene.”

_Perfect._

Seonghoon nodded his head in approval. “What are your plans for the future? Where do you see yourself in five years?”

“I see myself continuing my education to university and majoring in business and economics. I plan on working in my uncle’s business, he runs a company of financial planning and insurance. I also see myself building my own house in the center of Daegu, being married to my matched pair, having a son and a daughter.”

_Just like I practiced._

Hyunwoo gestured his head towards him. “What do you know about the deliria?”

“It’s the deadliest disease that has ever existed. It is a silent killer, it’s a sickness that makes you believe that you are well when you’re on the verge of death. Kang Jeonghoon first introduced them seventy five years ago, revealing _amor deliria nervosa_ as the cause of all the tragedy in the history of mankind.”

“How do you feel about the Invalids?”

“They are nothing but a danger to society, a risk for our nation. They spread the disease freely, _willingly_ , without a care in the world. They should be eradicated.”

_Almost there._

“What do you think of your mother?”

Taehyung blanched at the question. “Excuse me?”

Hyunwoo smirked menacingly, like a predator who just cornered its prey. “What do you think of your mother? You’re an orphan, right? You live with your aunt’s family because your mother was infected. She was uncured, sorry, she _can’t_ be cured, correct? After _three procedures_. You spent the first six years of your life in her sickness, watching her suffer until she finally offs herself because the disease consumes her. Surely you must have some thoughts about that. So what do you think of _her_ ? Do you _sympathize_ with her?”

The question was like a punch in the face. Taehyung never practiced an answer for this question. He himself didn’t know _how_ to answer them. He spent all his life thinking about how to not end up in the same fate as her until he forgot to think about _her_ alone. 

_What did he think of her?_

“Taehyung-ssi?”

_Her starry eyes. Her gentle hands. Her velvet voice._

“Do you think she deserves it?”

_The plush she made, Tata, so soft and warm, the one that she said reminded her of him._

“Do you think she deserves to die?”

_I love you Taehyung. Remember, they cannot take it._

A loud rumbling sound from outside of the room interrupted his train of thoughts. 

Taehyung snapped out of his stupor and turned his head towards the door. The rumbling was loud and sounded far away before, but now it seemed like it _moved_ to just right behind the door. The three evaluators seemed to notice them as well since all of them had their eyes also trained on the door, a comical expression for fear and confusion decorated each of their faces.

None of them dared to speak, waiting for whatever was happening outside to settle. Instead, an ear-splitting scream pierced the silence, making both Taehyung and the evaluators jump.

“What is going on in there?” Hyunwoo asked incredulously before standing up from his seat. He rushed furiously towards the door before grabbing the handle and pulling it open.

Nothing could prepare Taehyung for the sight that greeted him.

“What the _hell_?” 

Right behind the door was a flock of _sheeps_. There were about a dozen of them from Taehyung’s point of view, but the shouts coming from Hyunwoo and Heejin from outside the room indicated that there might be _more_.

Taehyung stood up and strutted outside. He was instantly surrounded by clumps upon clumps of wool. He was right, there were more of them than he thought. More than a dozen pairs of blank, beady eyes stared right at him. Sounds of hooves trudging against the marbled floor and the occasional bleats coming from the sheeps’ snout filled the room along with Heejin’s and the evaluators’ screams of terror and fury. But the most chilling part about this situation was the word that was written on top of the mass of wool on the sheeps’ body.

There, written in bold, capital letters with red ink, was the word _love_.

_LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE._

In the building that people went to for evaluation to receive The Cure.

Taehyung looked helplessly at the sheeps. Other people might find this situation harmless, just a casual mishap involving innocent farm animals. Maybe a transport truck got lost on their way or an administration staff member made a mistake. But as Taehyung stared at the sheeps’ blank eyes; the ones that reminded him of the flimsy, vacant gaze in his evaluators, Heejin, his uncle, his aunt, of _the cureds_ ; the strike of red staining their pure white fur, the damned word written in giant letters, mocking him, _challenging_ him, he realized this was not just an accident.

It was a sign of rebellion, _an insurgency_.

In the midst of chaos, a light laughter caught Taehyung’s ears.

He looked towards the direction of the sound. Right on the end of the lengthy hallway, stood two figures. One of them was a young man of his age with silky black hair and a square shaped face. He was throwing his head back in silent laughter, his hands holding his stomach in apparent excitement. Taehyung caught a glimpse of his toothy smile; it reminded him a little of a bunny.

The other man was more subdued. He had his hand covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his giggle. His tall figure and broad shoulders should have made him look intimidating, but the soft features of his face overshadowed them. Black bangs fell over his forehead, slightly obscuring his small face and slightly filled cheeks. As he put down his hand from his face, Taehyung noticed his small button nose and full, plump lips.

Taehyung’s heart skipped a short beat.

As if sensing that his ogling, the man turned his head only to meet his gaze with Taehyung’s.

Taehyung gasped.

_His eyes were as bright as stars._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that was...that.
> 
> World building is really kicking me right now help :")
> 
> I hope you like what you're reading so far! Feedbacks of any kind, whether kudos or comments, are deeply appreciated, so please tell me what you think!
> 
> See you on the next chapter <3


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